A Real Adventure: Sorting Out All the F.K.T.s (Fastest Known Times)

When a man named Brett Maune completed California’s 223-mile John Muir Trail in record time in 2009, crushing the previous mark by many hours, he was surprised to be greeted mostly by online doubters.

Brett who? In about three and a half days? Without a support team? Uh-huh. Right.

That is when a longtime ultrarunner and former atmospheric physicist named Peter Bakwin came to the rescue. He had a résumé that gave him credibility. He knew the trail well and once held the fastest known time on it.

Most important, he ran the website that remains the closest thing this genre of endurance sports, which includes trail running and speed hiking, has to a record book.

That means that when it comes to deciding what rules should apply and what routes merit the recording of a fastest known time — or F.K.T., the hottest acronym in the outdoor-adventure world — Bakwin, 53, of Boulder, Colo., is the closest thing there is to a commissioner.

“I’m trying not to be the judge of things, but there’s this natural tendency that people want some authority to step in and say yes or no,” Bakwin said. “And somehow — it’s just sort of natural, I guess — they look to me, even though I’m 100 percent self-appointed. The only authority I have is that I started this stupid little website.”

With a dwindling number of outdoor milestones to be achieved first, top adventurers are trying to achieve them fastest. Trails of every length and mountains of every size are increasingly becoming racecourses for those lured by the challenge of the F.K.T.

With GPS devices and online tracking sites like Strava, it is possible, and popular, to pit your best time against everyone else’s.

“It’s human nature — every town that has a running or climbing community, everyone will know who has the fastest time up the hill at the edge of town,” Bakwin said. “That probably goes back to the beginning of time. But with the Internet, now it’s possible to be recognized not just in your local community but essentially worldwide.”

Bakwin’s website, a no-frills discussion board, remains the primary depository of F.K.T.s. It chronicles about 400 routes, conquered or imagined, most of them in the United States. If an F.K.T. exists for a trail or a mountain (one that does not require ropes to climb) and Bakwin deems it worthy and credible, he puts the record at the top of the thread and changes the typeface to bold.

But every attempt comes tangled in questions: Was it a legitimate quest? Was it supported, unsupported or self-supported? Which route was used? What evidence do you have that you not only did it but also did not cheat?

Those questions arose in 2009 with Maune’s debated claim on the John Muir Trail, which stretches from Mount Whitney to Yosemite National Park. Bakwin investigated Maune’s evidence — photos and short bursts of video, time stamps, weather reports and witness accounts. He determined that Maune’s record was legitimate.

“You put so much heart and soul into these things and go through pain and misery that people can’t understand, and to have people not believe you is hard to accept,” said Maune, whose record has since been broken. “But through Peter’s efforts, most of the doubt was eliminated.”

But not all. Maune arrived at the 100-mile Barkley Marathon, which some consider the country’s toughest endurance race, and heard the whispers. He won the race. A year later, he set the course record. Online doubters were hushed.

“It never ceases to amaze me how passionate people can get with these debates,” Maune said. “But on the flip side, it’s an indication that people care about it. And that’s intrinsically a good thing.”

Sometimes, though, Bakwin ignites controversy instead of extinguishing it. In July, as Hamilton scooted up and down Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks, called 14ers, his progress was tracked and cheered in real time by an army of fans studying his satellite and GPS readings. Bakwin interrupted with a question about whether Hamilton had an unfair advantage.

One of the 14ers, Culebra Peak, is on private ranch land. The ranch permits access through a reservation system, usually opening the gate at 6 a.m. on summer Fridays and Saturdays. It was a constraint on Hamilton’s tightly constructed schedule, so the ranch granted him access when he arrived shortly after midnight.

“What if the next guy asks the ranch owners and they say no?” Bakwin posted on a forum at www.14ers.com, where most of the discussion over Hamilton’s F.K.T. attempt took place. “To me this is an asterisk on the attempt.”

A charged debate ensued. Most thought that Hamilton was right to take advantage of the ranch’s generosity, and Bakwin eventually dropped the subject. He now considers Hamilton the holder of the F.K.T., with no asterisk.

“I was annoyed that Peter was out there trying to stir it up,” Hamilton said. “But no one else thought it was a big deal.”

It highlighted the complexity of governing something as unwieldy as an F.K.T. attempt. Rules are often vague or nonexistent, consistently open to interpretation. Most attempts follow the method of the current record holder, as in the case of the Colorado 14ers.

Hamilton, now 40, first set the 14er record in 1999, but his methods, his routes and his inability to prove that he had reached each summit were subject to a debate he did not expect. A year later, Ted Keizer, known as Cave Dog, established a new F.K.T. He wrote detailed rules for anyone trying to break it.

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Kilian Jornet has become known for his endurance records and speedy ascents of some of the world’s highest peaks.CreditPascal Mora for The New York Times

One says that each mountain requires at least 3,000 vertical feet of ascent and descent, unless summits are strung together by a traverse from another mountain. That means no driving to trailheads higher than 11,000 feet, and do not consider taking a vehicle to the summit, which can be done on Pikes Peak and Mount Evans, for example.

Bakwin is among those who have questioned the arbitrary nature of the 3,000-foot rule. But Hamilton and others have played along, knowing that a different method would invite an argument. When Hamilton broke Keizer’s F.K.T. last month, Keizer was there on Longs Peak to congratulate him.

“The interesting thing about these F.K.T.s is that there is no governing body,” Hamilton said. “So if you’re establishing a new record, you can create your own rules.”

Bakwin has rules of his own. He expects record seekers to announce their intentions before embarking and to collect details of the route and proof of the result along the way, which is easier now with real-time satellite technology.

“It’s really about communicating exactly what you did, and then letting the chips fall where they may,” Bakwin said.

Bakwin denied an F.K.T. last year to a southbound hiker on the John Muir Trail who had to detour around a wildfire. The route might have been more difficult, but it was too different from the traditional route, Bakwin declared. The old record remained in boldface.

Still, one route might have several listed F.K.T.s. Sometimes direction matters because one way might be downhill. And while Bakwin tracks records for women, the lines are blurring. Recent record holders on both the Appalachian Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail have been women.

Trickier questions surround the degree of support the athlete receives: unsupported (carrying all supplies from the beginning), self-supported (collecting additional supplies along the way) and supported (having a team that provides everything from pacesetters to nightly shelter and food). Bakwin lists them all. It is left for readers to decide which is most impressive.

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Bakwin plays down his role in the outdoor-adventure world. "The only authority I have is that I started this stupid little website,” he said.CreditTheo Stroomer for The New York Times

“The Pacific Crest Trail, it seems most of the attention goes to true through-hiking style, which I call self-supported,” Bakwin said. “They’re never getting into a car; they’re walking into town, resupplying by going to stores or by mail drops. They’re basically doing what’s only available to any backpacker. That seems to be the most respected record.

“On the Appalachian Trail, it’s almost the opposite, probably because there are tons of access opportunities. Most of the speed-record activity has been focused on the ultrarunning style, like what Scott Jurek did, which I would call fully supported. He had a camper. I don’t think he slept outside one single night.”

Jurek’s accomplishment received mainstream attention, as well as an extra dose for the celebratory end at Maine’s Baxter State Park. Rangers there cited Jurek for drinking in public, littering and hiking with an oversize group. Park officials chided Jurek and the trend toward commercialism in the wilderness in a pointed Facebook post. Some quickly jumped to Jurek’s defense, saying the presence of a video team and the support of sponsors should not overshadow the accomplishment.

“That’s the beauty of the F.K.T.,” Jurek said during his cross-country drive back to his home in Colorado. “You have people who will bad-mouth it or give the thumbs-up or thumbs-down. People can look at this internationally and be like, ‘This is ridiculous,’ or give it approval and be like, ‘Wow, this is an amazing feat.’ So you have that bit of community watchdog.”

Jurek beat the previous F.K.T., set by Jennifer Pharr Davis in 2011. She called Jurek an “awesome ambassador for the trail.” But she worried about the future of the F.K.T. and the “publicity pollution” that seems to be growing in step with its popularity on trails everywhere. At the Grand Canyon, the National Park Service is trying to manage congestion caused by the proliferation of trail runners amid the day hikers and mule trains.

“This is my whole thing with F.K.T.,” she said. “I don’t want it to be divisive. I want it to be unifying.”

Back in Boulder, Bakwin added Jurek’s name to the top of the Appalachian Trail thread on his F.K.T. website. Pharr Davis, about three hours slower, remains the record holder for women and for people traveling from north to south. Two other Appalachian Trail records are listed — the men’s record from north to south and the self-supported record, which is just more than 58 days.